Levi saw Yost and waved with his whole arm. “Dawdi, we sold four candles already. I made sixteen dollars.”
“Not so fast, young man,” Bitsy said, reaching under the table for a candle from their box. “You need to pay me for ribbon and cellophane expenses. You’ve only made fifteen dollars.”
Levi nodded as if every word that came out of Bitsy’s mouth was the gospel. “Okay. Fifteen dollars. How much does a beehive cost?”
“A lot more than that. Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. Or your beehives.”
Yost took the candle from Bitsy and set it on the table, replacing the one they’d just sold. “Do you need help?”
“Levi doesn’t even need my help,” Bitsy said.
Levi smiled. “You can stand behind the table with us, Dawdi. It’s fun to try to get people to buy candles.”
Yost nodded. “Okay. But I’m not very gute at talking to strangers.”
“I’ll do the talking,” Levi said. “People still think I’m a little kid. They like buying something from a little kid.”
Yost mutely stood next to Bitsy for the next half hour, watching Levi sell candles and trying not to think about how good Bitsy smelled, like vanilla and honey with a little beeswax mixed in. The bazaar would go all afternoon and into the evening, and Levi and Bitsy had sold more than half their candles already.
Yost noticed Mark Hoover and Peewee Davie Zook before they noticed him, which wasn’t surprising because Mark and Peewee never noticed much past their own upturned noses. Mark couldn’t have been more than twelve, just like Levi, but Peewee was fourteen and as Bitsy would say, too big for his britches, even though he was shorter than Mark. They strutted down the row of Christmas toys and food as if they owned the whole market. They were in Yost’s district, and Yost had never really liked them much, but they were both young and it wasn’t too late for them to grow out of being dumm.
The problem was that cocksure boys like that tended to appeal to boys less confident, and Levi thought Mark and Peewee were more wunderbarr than a whole dish of yummasetti hot from the oven.
Levi caught his breath and straightened to his full height as soon as he saw Mark and Peewee. His eagerness set Yost’s teeth on edge.
“You selling candles?” Peewee said. He had never been too bright.
Yost pursed his lips. Uncharitable thoughts about Peewee Davie Zook were beneath him. He was fifty-five years old and had been a deerich young man once. Peewee would learn, and probably the hard way.
“Jah,” Levi said, glancing back at Bitsy. “Bitsy Kiem and I made them.”
Peewee looked directly at Bitsy and grimaced as if he’d drunk a whole jar of pickle juice. He leaned forward and cupped his hand around his mouth, whispering loudly enough so people three tables down could hear. “Look at her green hair and that hesslich tattoo.”
Bitsy smirked in Peewee’s direction. “You must be an orphan or your mater would have taught you some manners.”
“I’m not an orphan,” Peewee said, as if she’d insulted his entire family. He narrowed his eyes at Levi. “Are you going to jump the fence like Bitsy? My dat says she doesn’t follow Gelassenheit.”
Yost pursed his lips. Gelassenheit. Yielding to a higher authority. Humility. It was what every Amish member strived for. But Peewee didn’t know a thing about Bitsy. She was more devoted to Gotte than many others in the gmayna. Yost had to put a stop to such talk, especially in public.
“Peewee,” Yost said, but Levi interrupted him.
“I’m not going to jump the fence,” Levi said, taking two steps to the side so he wasn’t as close to Bitsy. That brought him closer to Peewee.
Peewee raised his arms and jumped back as if he’d been burned. “Ach. Don’t touch Levi. He’s friends with the tattooed woman. We’ll catch a disease.” He turned and strolled away, casting a self-righteous glance behind him as he went. Mark followed him.
Yost put a hand on Levi’s shoulder. “That was very rude. They should know better than to behave like that.”
Levi looked up, and there were tears in his eyes. “They think I’m going to jump the fence. I would never jump the fence. None of the people in the gmayna will buy a candle because Bitsy has a tattoo.”
Yost glanced at Bitsy and then gave his grandson a warning frown. “Now, Levi, it’s because of Bitsy that you even have candles to sell.”
“But they think I’m going to jump the fence.”
Bitsy wrapped her arm around Levi’s neck as if she were going to choke him. That was probably her version of a hug. “Sit down, Levi.”
There were two chairs next to the table. Levi sort of lumbered to one of them, and Bitsy took the other. She turned her chair so that she and Levi were knee to knee and propped her elbows on her legs. “Levi Weaver, you’re a fine boy and a gute candle maker, and you don’t upbraid me for having pierced ears like some people do.”
Yost found it hard to swallow. At the moment, he didn’t like being one of the “some people.”
“You have worked hard and should have a say in how we sell our candles. Would you feel more comfortable if I covered up my hair and my charming poinsettia tattoo?”
Levi stopped sniffling and eyed Bitsy as if trying to decide if she was serious. Then he nodded.
“Okay then,” Bitsy said, slapping her knee and standing up. Without making a fuss about it, she grabbed a thick red scarf from under the table and tied it like a bonnet around her head. It covered up her green hair and the tattoo on her neck and looked absolutely ridiculous.
Yost was sufficiently horrified. Levi, on the other hand, wiped his nose with the handkerchief from his pocket and burst into a smile. “You look like a Christmas ornament.”
Nae. She looked like she had a red pillow tied around her ears. If she needed to take a nap, she’d be comfortable resting her head anywhere.
Bitsy bent her head in Levi’s direction. “What did you say? I can’t hear you.”
Yost choked back his laughter. Bitsy was willing to make a fool of herself to help Levi feel better. She hadn’t been willing to take off her earrings for Yost, but she’d been willing to cover up that hair she loved so much for Levi’s sake.
Yost would never, ever say a bad word or think an unkind thought about Bitsy Kiem again. In truth, right now, not one bad thing was coming to mind. Bitsy was thoughtful and charitable and Christian, and he had misjudged her.
Badly.
She’d never been more beautiful, even if she looked as silly as a horse in a pair of pajamas. If they had been alone, he would have taken her into his arms and kissed her.
Something hard stuck in his throat. How had that thought ambushed him? It was intriguing and horrifying at the same time.
Yost was desperately trying to catch his breath when all three of Bitsy’s nieces ambled up to the candle table. Lily, the oldest, was in a family way and looked to be due very soon. Poppy pushed a stroller with a chubby baby inside. Rose didn’t have any babies and didn’t look to be with child. Bitsy went around the table and immediately picked up the baby. “Luke Junior must have his papa’s appetite. Either that or you’re feeding him buttermilk.”
Yost smiled as best he could, but he still couldn’t breathe properly. “Hallo,” he said. “It is gute to see all of you and I don’t want to be rude, but I need to go outside to get some air.” He stupidly nodded to Bitsy as if seeking her permission. He didn’t need her permission. He didn’t need her for anything.
He hurried outside, grabbed a handful of snow from the nearest snowbank, and pressed it to the back of his neck. The ice dripping down his back did nothing to help him think more clearly, and now he had a wet shirt.
The sooner Bitsy Kiem was out of his life, the better.
Who needed the aggravation of wet shirts and extra laundry?
* * *
Bitsy and her girls moved away from the candle table so they wouldn’t block anyone’s view of the candles.
“Oh, Aendi Bitsy,” Rose said. “The candles are
wonderful-gute. I love the beehives.”
None of the girls mentioned the thick red scarf tied around her head, but they were used to her being a little different and nothing she did surprised them anymore—at least that was her goal. It was hard to hear the conversation and even harder to cuddle Luke Junior, but that didn’t keep her from trying. She pressed her lips to Junior’s cheek and gave him the biggest hug a woman wearing a scarf headdress could give.
“Levi Weaver looks very happy,” Lily said, resting her hand on her growing abdomen.
Bitsy had always thought there was nothing more beautiful than a woman who was going to have a baby. Lily was glowing. “He should be. He’s making all sorts of money off our beeswax.”
Lily smiled and looked in the direction Yost had disappeared. “I’ve always liked Yost Weaver. Only the best kind of dawdi would go to so much trouble to see that his grandson learned a lesson.”
A line appeared between Poppy’s eyebrows. “He likes you, I think.”
“Of course he likes me. He’s lonely, and he needs a woman’s influence. His mater is beside herself with little ones.”
Poppy’s lips curled mischievously. “I was talking about Yost.”
Poppy shouldn’t say such things if she didn’t want Bitsy to drop the baby. “Yost? Yost doesn’t like me. We barely put up with each other.” She frowned. Despite his objections to her hair colors, Yost had done a lot of smiling at her in the last two weeks. He still had all his teeth, which was very important to a former dental hygienist, and one of his top front teeth was slightly crooked, which made him seem more interesting than he probably was. She had to admit he made himself useful by fixing things around the house. There was considerably less duct tape than when he’d started coming over. She enjoyed irritating him with her vocal prayers and her tinkling earrings, and he seemed to enjoy finding money in her Bible as he searched for verses about earrings and fingernail polish.
But Yost certainly didn’t like her. And she most certainly didn’t like him.
How could Poppy plant such an idea in her head?
Oy, anyhow. It was going to get stuck there.
Chapter 4
Yost and Levi walked up Bitsy’s porch steps, and Yost’s heart knocked against his rib cage as if it were trying to get out of his chest. It was only a Friday, and she was only Bitsy Kiem. His heart shouldn’t be doing an Englisch tap dance.
Every time Yost came to Bitsy Kiem’s house, he wondered if he should do some sort of penance for simply being there. Should he talk to the bishop about sitting idly by while Bitsy prayed out loud? Should he ask Gotte’s forgiveness for adoring the way Bitsy’s newly dyed blue hair accented her eyes?
Bitsy had refused to take off her earrings when Yost asked her to, but the second Levi was in trouble, she was willing to do anything to make him happy—even wear that bulky scarf that made her head look three times too big for her body.
Yost had never been so touched. Or so dismayed. How could a man like him even think about having feelings for a woman like Bitsy? They were as different as asparagus and cinnamon.
What made everything worse was that he enjoyed, even took pleasure in being with Bitsy and her unconventional opinions, which made him feel even more guilty and more in need of repentance. It was a vicious circle, like a merry-go-round that he saw no hope of getting off.
They had searched the Bible for passages about earrings and tattoos and even something called Van Halen. She had taught him a ridiculous song—There ain’t nothing I can do, a total eclipse of the heart—and prayed out loud on his behalf several times. He had laughed more in the last three weeks than he had laughed in the last four years, and he was so happy, he caught himself whistling Christmas songs while milking the cows. Bitsy was a puzzle and a delight and a frustration all at the same time.
Every minute he spent at Bitsy’s house was the happiest, best time of his life. And the worst.
Was it possible to feel guilty about liking someone?
Not just liking her, but spending every waking hour thinking about her, every night dreaming about her, every beat of his heart hoping she’d smile at him—or give him one of her exasperated frowns.
This was not normal, and he should feel very guilty. Did feel very guilty. But what could be done?
He’d already admitted to himself that he liked Bitsy. Unfortunately, Levi liked her too, and Yost couldn’t cut off contact simply because he was uncomfortable in her presence. Levi was blossoming. He didn’t slouch at the dinner table anymore, and Yost’s son, Reuben, said Levi had been given the biggest part in the school Christmas program because the teacher had noticed that he was trying harder at his schoolwork.
A week ago, Yost had considered sending Levi by himself to Bitsy’s, but the thought of not seeing her made him depressed. Maybe after Christmas, when spring came, he’d be too busy and have an excuse to cut Bitsy Kiem out of his life.
It was a sad thought at Christmastime.
Levi could barely contain his excitement as he knocked on Bitsy’s door. Yost was having an even harder time containing his. Hopefully, Bitsy would be just as excited as they were.
She opened the door with that endearing frown on her face and a long sparkly pair of earrings in her ears, the same pair she’d been wearing the first day they’d come to make candles. She’d colored her hair blue a few days ago, and it matched her eyes and clashed with her pumpkin orange dress. Who wore a pumpkin orange dress? Her outfit was like the remains of a pumpkin pie splattered against a blue linoleum floor.
Except, she looked too pretty for words.
How was that possible?
“It’s about time you got here,” she said. “I grew three new gray hairs while I waited.”
Levi did his best to contain his smile. “We had to get a surprise.”
The lines around Bitsy’s mouth deepened. “I’m not fond of surprises. It’s not another cat, is it? Because if it is, you can turn around and march right back home.” She pursed her lips and squinted. “Although, I’d like to name it before you go. How does Snoop Dogg sound?”
“For a cat?” Levi said.
Bitsy cocked her head to one side and made her earrings jingle. “Well, cum reu. You’re letting all the cold air in. I thought we could make a candle for your mamm for Christmas.”
Levi and Yost stayed firmly planted on the porch. Levi looked up at Yost with a glint of animated anticipation in his eyes. “We’re taking you for a ride.”
Bitsy looked from Levi to Yost and back again. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
Levi laughed with all the sincerity and joy of a child, then reached out and tugged on Bitsy’s hand. “Dawdi brought his sleigh, and we’re going to take it along the back roads. We can go fast.”
“As fast as Rocky is able to go through the snow,” Yost added, just so Bitsy wouldn’t expect too much.
Bitsy looked sufficiently impressed and shot Yost a look that might have made a weaker man’s knees give out. Yost had gute knees. “I’m always up for a sleigh ride,” she said. “Let me get my coat.”
“Can we bring the cats?” Levi asked.
Yost peered at him and raised an eyebrow. He’d obviously been planning on asking.
“Please?” Levi added.
Bitsy wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I suppose, but they’ll be nothing but trouble. Wait here.” She closed the door—to keep the cold air out—and reappeared a short minute later with a wicker basket almost the size of a small bathtub. Inside was a fluffy pink blanket and all four of Bitsy’s cats. The white one, Farrah Fawcett, looked positively insulted at being carried in a basket. Billy Idol hissed at Yost with barely contained rage. Leonard Nimoy and Sigourney Weaver looked more excited than even Levi did at the possibility of a sleigh ride. Leonard Nimoy jumped on Farrah Fawcett, then on Billy Idol, and when neither of them would play with her, she settled for pawing at Sigourney Weaver.
The basket had a sturdy handle, and Bitsy hooked it over Levi’s arm. “Don’t drop it. Ros
e would never forgive me if you just happened to leave the basket somewhere by the side of the road.”
She went back into the house and closed the door. Levi folded the edge of the blanket over Farrah Fawcett’s rump. Farrah Fawcett looked excessively ungrateful.
When Bitsy came back outside, she wore a brown beanie that had two felt eyes and a black felt nose sewn onto the front with big brown pompoms on either side of the top. That Bitsy owned a bear beanie was surprising enough, but that she had the gall to wear it in place of her kapp was more shocking yet. Yost was quite without words.
Should the bishop know about this?
Her earrings poked out from under her beanie, and Yost nearly swallowed his tongue. What would Levi think?
“Dawdi says we Weavers don’t wear beanies. Straw hats are Gelassenheit.”
Gute boy.
Bitsy didn’t seem offended in the least. “Your dawdi is absolutely right to be concerned, but I wear this beanie to scare the bears away. There’s nothing that scares a bear more than the sight of another bear.”
Levi’s eyes widened to saucers. “Do you think we’ll see a bear?”
“Probably not, but you can never be too careful.” Bitsy snapped her fingers, which didn’t make a sound because she wore mittens the same color as her beanie. “I forgot something.” Back into the house. She came out carrying a round plastic container with a lid and handed it to Yost. “I made Bi-enenstich Cake this morning. We might as well take it with us. The only thing better than a sleigh ride with cats is a sleigh ride with cats and Bee Sting Cake. And . . .” She returned to the house and emerged with a leather strap laced with jingle bells.
Yost cleared his throat. The beanie was one thing, but he’d have to put his foot down about jingle bells. “Nae, Bitsy. Bells are fancy. They draw attention.”
Bitsy puffed her cheeks out and blew a loud gust of air from between her lips. “Stuff and nonsense. Marty Troyer has jingle bells on his buggy, and his son is a minister.”
The Amish Christmas Candle Page 10
